All of my young life since the moment I was strong enough to lift a bottle, I have loved the booze. It makes women more approachable and attractive, keeps my spirits up (no pun intended), and if one knows about wine, then they have a much easier time being snotty more often.

Until tonight, however, I have never actually been old enough to partake legally in our national crutch. Now that my twenty-first birthday has arrived, I can feel the last vestiges of childhood hooliganism evaporating.

Being a youth in the states is all about being told you can’t do something and then doing it as much as you possibly can without my mom sending me to rehab in high school. Now that I have had a few years to puff hard from morning to night, and now that I can go into a liquor store and buy hooch without the thrill of having to use a fake id, it all seems a bit silly though.

I need to find a new way to rebel against society while at the same time continuing to stunt my emotional growth. For this reason, and a multitude of others which should be clearly evident to all those literate enough to be reading this, I have decided to join the Navy.

In the coming days, I plan on joining the Navy, getting a crisp white sailor suit, and shipping out to find my destiny and get really threatening tattoos I can’t possibly back up. By doing so, I can at the same time upset leftists due to my enlistment in the military industrial complex, and right wingers because with the exception of the marines, the navy is a bunch of ineffectual wussies. Most importantly though, my mother would be very disappointed. She hates tattoos, and has had a grudge against the Navy ever since some party she went to called tailhook. I will also have the opportunity to join another group of people with a very limited, juvenile vocabulary. I will have to change my lingo from “dude, pass that heady nug pon de left hand side”, to “dude, boats and guns are mad chill”, and “yes sir, I love peeling potatoes”, but I feel as though the transition can be a smooth one.

Plus, as the old saying goes,when you enlist in the armed forces, you get to go to interesting place, meet interesting people, and kill them. That sounds great. I hate interesting people because they make me feel like less of a man. The armed services seems like the perfect upgrade from grimy sketchball, because I want to grow up, but I hate the idea of getting mature.